Maker's Mark
by sadlady
Summary: It's official. They're a couple. Doyle decides to mark the occasion


Usual Disclaimer

I don't own the characters of Bodie and Doyle, or any others from the TV series. They belong to Mark One Productions and Brian Clemens.

I borrow them to write fiction for my own (and hopefully your) pleasure, with no financial gain to myself or anyone else.

MAKER'S MARK

Doyle drew the curtains and switched on the light. He stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom and pulled off his tee shirt, then hitched his jeans lower until they were riding just above his groin. A trail of fine dark hair drifted down his belly where it then joined the rebellious thatch of pubic hair. He stared at his reflection, wincing slightly at the roughend and damaged skin just below his belly button. It was not so sore now, but the tight denim had rubbed and the area was reddened.

He was about the reach for some antiseptic cream, when he heard the door to the flat open. He recognised his partner's footsteps. He smiled happily at the sound, pleased Bodie's two day assignment in York was at an end. He waited for the set routine which accompanied Bodie's entry: the crash of a sports bag on the wooden floor, the sound of the kettle being filled and the nightly fridge raid. Doyle stuck his head round the door.

"Oi . . . I'm in 'ere," he called.

Bodie wandered in, a chicken leg from last night's dinner in one hand. He stopped short as he saw Doyle's reflection in the mirror. A muffled groan escape his lips.

"Bloody hell! You're a sight for sore eyes."

He tossed the food into the waste bin and moved across to put his arms around Doyle, pulling the smaller man into him. Doyle responded, laying back against Bodie's broad chest.

They stood together for a short while, Bodie drinking in the sheer wanton presence of his partner. His jeans, still riding so very low on his hips, his chest, covered with fine dark hair, and the silver chain around his neck. Doyle's slightly prominent collar bones invited Bodie to run his fingers along them and rest in the small hollow at his partner's throat. He gave into the suggestion, and trailed his fingers slowly down Doyle's chest, through the hair, grazing each small nipple as he travelled downwards.

Doyle stood still, his eyes closed, only the quicker breathing betraying his delight.

Bodie continued to stare steadily at their images in the mirror. He noted the growing bulge in his partner's jeans and made to lower his hand to stroke across the material. Doyle caught his bottom lip, and placed his own hand over his lover's.

"Might wanna take it gently around there," he said.

Bodie stopped his ministrations immediately.

"Why?" He looked puzzled. "I thought we might indulge in a little pre dinner exercise." He arched his brows expressively.

Doyle smiled and pointed to the small place on his stomach that was the subject of his preening.

"Wha . . ." Bodie stared hard at the small angy patch. His face showed the conflicting emotions as he realised what Doyle had done. He turned Doyle around to face him,

"Why did you do that? It looks painful."

Doyle kissed his lover gently.

"I wanted to mark the first time after we . . . made it official. Y'know . . . when we decided to become a couple."

Bodie sat down on the bed, drawing Doyle closer. He looked at the tattoo on Doyle's stomach. Its position of intimacy touched him. The tattoo was small and quite delicate. Two lovers kissing and an intricate knot design underneath. As he looked, he saw the knot was made up of letters WAPB and RD, fashioned in such a way one would have to be _ascloseasthis_ to see.

Doyle's marking of his body was his own personal way of confirming their commitment to each other.

Doyle watched his partner's reaction.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Bodie nodded, and ran his finger ever so gently across the design. It felt rough and warm, and he could detect the subtle regrowth of hair where Doyle had been shaved for the the tattoo. Doyle reached for the antiseptic cream again.

Bodie took the tube from him and squeezed a small amount of the cream onto his finger. He stroked the soothing ointment across Doyle's belly, keeping his eyes on Doyle's face, while enjoying the pleasure such a mundane task invoked in his lover.

Bodie, who never expected to experience any long lasting relationship, least of all to be loved back for just being himself, revelled in providing this simple healing act.

They were together. A couple. There was nothing more to say.


End file.
